A part of me just died, and I had to watch it die slowly. Yet I feel like I got robbed so quickly. Robbed by my own body. Why can’t it deal with the pain? Why can’t it cop with it for a tiny bit longer?

Dancinghas always been second nature to me, an impulse, an instinct. It was where I got my identity from for most of my life and now I’m losing sight of what I am. It was the only thing I could truly and honestly depend on. Guess not!

Now what?

When you find something that you’re roundly good at doing, that feels good while doing it and that someone rips it away from you. It hurts, but if that someone is your own self, it hurts even deeper.

As of today, I am no longer a dancer. I am no longer a part of that family that saw me grow up and evolve into the young woman that I’ve became. I will no longer be able to get up on a stage in front of hundreds of people and feel that excitement rising. I can no longer explore the miracle of body mouvement, of pushing the limits, of expressing throught the purest, rawest of art.